3:16 [For]
For
who hands o-
ver their on-
ly begot-
ten any-
thing to this
white-teethed world
if god so
loved I nev-
er knew him
From The Night Angler. Copyright © 2018 by Geffrey Davis. Used with the permission of BOA Editions.
During the last 50 miles back from haul & some
months past my 15th birthday, my father fishes
a stuffed polar bear from a Salvation Army
gift-bin, labeled Boys: 6-10. I can almost see him
approach the decision: cold, a little hungry, not enough
money in his pocket for coffee. He worries
he might fall asleep behind the wheel as his giant,
clumsy love for that small word—son—guides
his gaze to the crudely-sewn fabric of the miniature bear
down at the bottom of the barrel. Seasons have flared
what kind of wound make a man
set his favorite rooster loose
on a dying hen what make the man
snap the neck of that twice-broken bird
before his child’s eyes what make him see
Dear Boy: Be the muscle,
make music to the bone—risk
that mercurial measure
of contact. There are those
who touch a body and leave it
graceful: be that kind
of wonder in the dark. And if I ever
catch you confusing